


Humorous Cases of Foul Villainy

by oversized_child (Hell_on_Wheels)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Apple Farmer, Bar, Baristas, Bartenders, Blackmail, Butlers, Cocaine, Collection of Swords, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Drinks, Drugs, Enabler, F/F, F/M, Grocery Store, HAROLD THEY'RE LESBIANS, Herb Brownies, Implied Sexual Content, Journalist, La Perla, Lawyers, Marriage, Multi, Murder, Murder Wives, Murdered Husbands, References to Drugs, RuPaul's Drag Race References, Security Guard, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Swearing, bassist, gucci, oh and how could i forget, singer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-09-16 21:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16962252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hell_on_Wheels/pseuds/oversized_child
Summary: A tight group of possibly illegal friends.





	1. Arsenic and Old Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Live or die, but don't poison everything.”  
> ― Anne Sexton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fanfic Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5XuXmkpF9GephrR5i8aOL7?si=AagRzBxsR6GGidJL0k0KbA)

Claire walked down the luxurious stairs, her feet gracefully taking careful steps, the soft pink Follies Strass shoes clicking lightly against the marble. The Desert Rose dress falls behind her like a watery veil. She carefully traced her fingers along the flowering vine gold trim.  _A shame, though, that it isn't 24k gold. It's only 18k._ She always thought that her latest husband - Shigeru, was it? He liked it when he was called Sean - had terrible taste. Everything and anything found in this house had been redecorated by Claire.

Really though, what sort of person hangs the Birth of Venus in a dining room?

She walked into the dining room, smiling sweetly at her unsuspecting husband. She had made sure that the dinner was perfection. A fresh, raw King salmon (rare in the winter), served with a puree of avocado garlic aioli, a glass of Concannon's Pinot Noir, and a gastronomic delectable dessert - a fancy ice cream made with liquid nitrogen.

She sat at his right hand, smiling and giggling at the casual banter being made with her. Really, it wasn't all that hard to convince her poor husband's servants. A little bit of gold goes a long way. As for her meal, roasted pork with an orange sauce, a glass of Domaine Leflaive.

"And then I told Darius that I nearly won that damn horse betting contest. But you know, that stupid jockey rode his horse too hard, and fell off. Of course, I had some of my men have a meeting with the jockey. Darius, that asshole, laughed in my face."

Claire's face turned sad. "I'm so sorry, Sean." She got closer, her breasts rubbing against Sean's arm, her arms clasped around his. "Could I make you feel better tonight in bed?" Her voice lowered, becoming sultry. She smiled sweetly again, almost innocently. But the meaning of her words were undeniable.

Sean looked down at Claire. She was such a beautiful and loving wife. All those rumours of her being a 'Bloody Bride' is total bullshit. He leaned over a little bit, kissing her on her forehead. "Honey, I would love to."

Claire forced herself not to flinch as she flirted with -  _Sean_. He would've looked dashing in his younger years, Claire would like to imagine. His hands felt all pruny against her skin. She was about to lash out,  _how dare a pervy old man touch me like this_ , when she remembered her goal. She forced herself to blush, and leaned in for a kiss. When she drew away, she whispered:

"See you in bed tonight."

Claire had routines. She wore the same thing before she had sex, and depending on what would happen, she changed. If she decided they would live, she would wear white.

Tonight, she had decided to wear black.

* * *

Sean laid on the bed, exhausted, half naked. Claire was good at sucking dick. She knew this, and she knew exactly how to suck a dude dry.

Normally, Claire would ride Sean into dry orgasms, but tonight was different. Well, the same in some ways. She never let a dead man cum in her, condom or not.

Sean wasn't exactly dead, but he was about as good as dead.

She got off of the bed when she was sure Sean was asleep, and pranced over to her room. A gentle, pervasive scent of sweet lollipops filled the room. She walked over to her closet, and picked out a casual dress. Well, for her, at the very least.

Claire went down and went over to the rotary phone. Sean was old-fashioned like that, and Claire didn't particularly mind. In some ways, the dial phone was fun to use.

604-681-1111. A strand of numbers she'd memorized long ago and far and away.

"Hello?" Her voice was a little ruined. Well, it was dark enough that nobody would recognize her nor know why she was coming from Sean's house. They would probably assume a normal hooker or some bullshit.

"Yes, I would like a taxi. In ten minutes. Yes. Alright, I understand. I live on 4743 Belmont Street. Oh yes, of course. That's no problem. Thank you so much!"

Claire picked up a ready to go bag that she'd set in the front doors, that she often let there. She saw servants watching her, and, knowing their policy, left a hundred dollar bill on the table.

She walked out into the night air, lightly cold against her proper vintage clothing. A bomber jacket, hiding what she considered a bell dress, with sleek cat eye sunglasses.

Claire saw the banana yellow of the taxi cab and rushed in her high heels to the taxi.

The taxi driver gave her a glance of disdain.  _She definitely thinks I'm a prostitute._

"Drive me to Sugar, the coffee shop."

"Alright, ma'am."

The two sat in silence, Claire staring out at the night sky. Sometimes she wondered how she got here, but then she remembers exactly how she got here.

The taxi stopped abruptly, and Claire saw they had arrived. "How much will that be?"

"$25.80."

Claire knew she was being cheated by 10 dollars or so, but the taxi driver had, at the very least  _said_ nothing. She considered the extra ten dollars a tip. She took out a credit card and tapped lightly.

"Thank you for the night," Claire said when she'd gotten out of the car. "By the way, I know you cheated me by at least 10 dollars. Have a safe trip home!" She grinned, savouring the worried look on the driver's face.

_Bitch._

She walked into the coffee shop, nobody there but a few late night studiers. She walked up to the counter, took off her sunglasses, and rapped the table twice.

A tired but familiar face greeted her. "Jocelyn!!! I'm so glad to see you! It's been sooo long."

Jocelyn glared, face as deadpan as possible. "You never come here often, and when you do, it's for one reason. Besides, everybody else is here already."

"You wound me, Jocelyn. Do you think that I only come for the bar?"

"Claire, everybody comes here if they're desperate or want a drink. Just follow me."

Claire smiled. "Thanks for putting up with us, Jocelyn."

Jocelyn snorted in response. "I don't even want to know."

She opened a familiar door with a familiar lock. "You know the route."

Claire smiled and hugged Jocelyn again. "You're the best."

"I know."

Claire went down a set of stairs, into a nightclub to end all nightclubs. In a familiar corner, a familiar bunch of faces sat around, chatting.

"Hey guys!"

"Hey. Why did you call us here."

"Well, hold on. Let a lady get a drink, alright?"

Claire slid over to the bar, and saw Cara.

"Caraaaa!! My favourite person. Would you be ever so kind to make the usual?"

Cara's eyes drifted towards Claire. "So, a cement mixer?"

"You fucking bitch. I tried that once, asshole."

Cara began to laugh. "Yeah yeah, period blood."

"You got it!" Claire winked at Cara.

Cara snorted in response and grabbed two bottles. They put them into a mixing cup, and, shaking violently, grabbed another glass. They poured the red mixture into a cup, and, with a flourish, added another red mixture.

"Are you ever gonna tell me what's in that red mix?"

Cara smiled at that. "Am I ever going to stop flirting with the strippers?"

Claire snorted. "I hired you for the drinks, not to get laid."

"Doesn't mean I can't to do both," Cara grinning.

"Fuck off." Cara laughed loudly at that.

"Here's the Period Blood special."

Claire's face turned into a pug frown, lightly annoyed. Her face shifted back into a smile.

"Heyyy!! How we doin'?"

"Cut the crap, Claire. Who did you murder this time?"

Claire sat down, smiling at Chloe. "Aww, bitch, you know me so well. Shigeru "Sean" Kobayashi, philanthropist and rich as hell. Net worth possibly 72 million dollars."

Jewel pulled out her iPad Pro, doing a quick google. "Hm. The citizens of the internet hasn't found out yet."

"Of course not," Claire giggled. "He's not technically dead, yet. Just remain prepared. The news will break out, maybe soon."

Chloe slammed her glass on the table. "So I'm supposed to prepare for a not-dead man?"

Jane jumped in. "Why didn't you just fucking finish him off? You always fucking leave a half dead person, some motherfucker will find out someday."

"That's what you're here for, Jane." Claire grinned innocently at that. "You shut them up, permanently."

Chloe grumbled. She downed the rest of her drink.

"Cara, can I get another glass?"

"Yeah, but you're coming over here. I'm not gonna serve you like a goddamn waitress."

"Well, fuck you, asshole."

"You too, bitch."

The rest of the patrons looked up, and went back to their drinks. They had long since gotten used to this, this being the club. The casual banter that flipped between Chloe and Cara (was it even casual? Half of it was insults thrown back and forth.) Oh, and the little group that gathered in the corner, trading gossip and whispering among themselves. They'd also gotten used to the sound, and the fact that half the patrons had become a family. They had also long since gotten used to Claire dragging in random strangers and taking them home. And the side fact that it catered to both a heterosexual as well as a homosexual audience, as well as everybody in between.

Nobody came into Sugar (Daddy) looking for people performing in cages. In fact, it was a little more like a chain reaction. A friend of a friend of a friend had spoken about it. Or maybe a rumour wafted around about it. Perhaps they had walked into the coffee portion, late night, and had been mildly interested in the name. Maybe they heard the password from somewhere.

The one unspoken rule, though, was there were no questions asked.

Anybody who lasted past a week stayed forever; after all, Cara had great taste in strippers. Their taste in names was, let's say, subpar, but their drinks were the best around town. Anyone brave (or crazy) enough to try one of Cara's drinks usually found a favourite within their wacky menu.

The other people ran out of the club as soon as they could.

Chloe grumbled again. Jane laughed at Chloe's reaction. "You'll live."

"I know." Chloe begrudgingly allowed herself to smile before trudging over to Cara's counter.

"Cara, you asshole. Gimme some more whiskey, and none of the shitty stuff you give to Claire's first-timers."

"I've never given you any of the shitty stuff."

"Yeah you fucking have, you bitch."

They continued to bicker, arguing and throwing insults.

"Anyway, do you know where Elina is? I need a bullshit report."

Carmen, with a drink in one hand and an existential crisis Caitlin on her shoulder, responded. "She writes other articles, you know? To hold up the credibility for your bullshit reports."

Claire whined. "Why can't she just work for me? I could pay for four of her lifetimes."

"Claaaaaaaaire, you're so duuuuumb." Caitlin slurred and giggled, seemingly haven gotten over her existential crisis. "She needs the credibility for your repooooorts."

Carmen patted Caitlin's head.

"Hey, Carmesan, you know what we should do? We should strip. And like - pole dance. You would be great at pole dancing. Like, look at your legs. They're so long, and so nice." Caitlin's eyes went downwards, and traced her legs.

Carmen quietly whispered to Caitlin, and put her arm back to her side.

"Awwww," Claire cooed. "You're so cute. Get a damn room, you two."

Carmen nodded, and, gently coaxing Caitlin, headed towards the exit.

"Hey Cara, can you get a taxi?"

Cara turned, nodded, and continue arguing with Chloe. "But like, I smashed the glass a few years ago when some dickweed came in and tried to get his slimy palms on Shae."

"WELL OBVIOUSLY NOT! I had it like, a WEEK ago. I swear."

"Dramatic, much? Not like it's gonna kill you."

"Yeah, but it tastes like shit."

Cara pointed their middle finger.

Chloe, grumbling, pointed hers in response. Cara laughed. They picked up the phone and dialled the hot line.

"Yes? Yeah, this is Sugar. Yeah. Mhm. 5761 Dunbar Street? Yeah. 3 minutes? Yeah, that works. They're coming in three minutes."

Carmen nodded, and pulled Caitlin towards the exit.

Jane yawned. "I'm getting tired, I might crash at Elina's again. My house still smells like weed."

Chloe muttered. "I have to go to if I'm gonna do this case."

"Good riddance, you're finally gonna leave."

"Oh, well fuck you too." Cara laughed again.

"Goodnight." 

Jewel was still politely listening to Claire's small talk and responding when required. She had picked up on everybody else leave. "I'm sorry, Claire, but I'm gonna go drive Chloe back to her home. I'm very sure she's gonna crash her car if I don't." She smiled apologetically and waved goodbye, before jogging lightly to catch up with Chloe. Jewel whispered quietly to her employer, who nodded every now and again.

Claire wiggled her fingers, meaning goodbye. She blew a kiss as they left out the door.

And now came the quietest part of the night. When everybody was gone, and all that was left was Shae's soft singing and Cara's mopping of the glasses. This was in some ways, the best and worst part of the night. This was when Claire could have been approached by a rich man, but most nights, it was when Claire could finally let down her hair. When she could, in the full sense of the meaning, become Claire. Slowly sipping on her drink, admiring the bottles stocked on the wine wall, the softly lit bar's aesthetic appeal finally settling into place.

In some meanings, loneliness meant sadness.

But, in some meanings, being lonely means having nobody around.

So why does lonely hit when Claire's with another man who she doesn't love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In Nauplia...is a spring called Kanathos. Here, say the Argives, Hera bathes every year and recovers her maidenhood."  
> ― Pausanius
> 
> * * *


	2. Honey Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You misinterpret everything. Even the silence."  
> — Franz Kafka, _The Castle_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how cars work don't slaughter me

Jane had said she was going to leave, and crash at Elina's. But also, Elina was a bitch and would never get out of her home to pick up her questionably drunk friend. Jane fixed on a brown wig, one that was wavy and fairly long. She brushed the bangs over her forehead. Primer. Foundation. Concealer.

Time to take advantage of the bar's equally morally bankrupt patrons, which, Jane didn't particularly advise doing.

Not unless you were insane.

Or perhaps a criminal.

Thankfully, Jane was both.

* * *

Bond Street cigarettes. There really wasn't a reason that Jane chose that brand. Jane had promised Chloe she'd quit smoking, and that was partially true. She wasn't even trying to get that high off nicotine this time. Just to attract someone who looked like they were idiotic enough to offer a match to a woman in a shady parking lot, because they were the same kind of idiot who would take a woman home in hopes to get in her pants.

People dressed in dark, inconspicuous clothing walked about, like living shadows. People who didn't want their kinky desires to be spilled to the rest of the world at large.

She glanced around, and saw a man looking uncertainly at her. Jane plastered a smile on. "Hey, I was wondering if I could get a light?"

The man looked almost startled, but a hesitant half-smile. "Sure." A semi-rough, light voice. From his pocket, he drew out a lighter, and motioned for her to get closer.

Jane leaned in a little more. She almost felt pity for what she was about to do. He seemed like a nice enough guy. _(Other than the little, barely visible glint of a ring, sitting on the right hand.)_

"Lila." She allowed a guarded smile.

The man seemed to visibly relax. "Dillon." He smiled gently as well.

They stood by what Jane assumed was Dillon's car. The silence was comfortable. And yet, there's something intangibly wrong.

Jane inhaled slowly, letting it sit in her mouth for a bit, and a gentle exhale. A gentle two taps, the ashes falling slowly to the ground. She could feel Dillon's gaze on her. Jane was nearing the end of her cigarette. "Hey, do you happen to have an ash tray?"

Dillon was dazed for a few seconds, and then snapped awake. "Uh, yeah, hold on -"

He took out his keys, and reached into his car to grab an ash tray. He offered it to Jane.

"Thanks, Dillon." Jane took it.

"No worries, uh, Lila." Dillon allowed a sheepish grin. "Do you, um, need a ride home?"

"Ah," Jane responded, allowing herself to sound a little surprised. "That would be great. However, I think we could go a little more." Jane touched his shoulder, feather light, quiet. A touch that's friendly at all other times of the day.

Dillon gulped. He went round to the passenger side, and opened the door. "After you."

 _A useless show of chivalry_. Jane smiled.

Dillon closed the door, and went round the front to get to the driver's seat. Jane would've never - too many chances to take, too little people to trust.

Gentle clinking of the keys. A harsh push, the engine coming to life. A manual car. 4. The car takes off. They pass two traffic lights, the roads are quiet. Nobody suspects anything of anybody.

Or perhaps everyone suspects everybody of everything. It's always hard to tell at that telling hours between midnight and the witching hour, when people are neither good nor bad.

The silence is comforting, but suffocating. There's a tangible hardness, a wall. Dillon doesn't know what it is, but it's something oppressive and powerful.

They pass another block, the warm hue lighting the way.

_click_

"Knock once for the father," Jane softly sang.

That's when Dillon feels it. Something hard, unflinching, pressing against his temple. Without looking over, he knows what it is. He doesn't know what do to, there's too much going on inside his head, thoughts and feelings swirling around. He wants to let go. But he holds tight. Hands gripping on the wheel. Fingernails clutched. There are slow beads of sweat, the fear of death looming close, over his shoulder. And the woman sitting next to him, Lila, a false hope of love. There's something wrong. His vision goes blurry. He has enough sense to pull over.

The tension is relieved, if only for seconds. He looks over, there's a wild, animalistic, _insane_ grin spread on Lila's face. No. Not Lila. Lila isn't real, is she. It looks so wrong, contorted on a face that was so serene and pretty just minutes ago.

The gun is now aimed at his forehead.

Slowly, he raises his hands like he saw in Hollywood movies. The gun doesn't move. Lila, the woman, doesn't flinch. The grin wipes away. It's no longer happy, nor sad, nor scary. It's blank, _closeted._ She doesn't say anything.

He remembers what his dad once said to him - "The most dangerous men are the quietest people in any given room." Dillon shivers.

"Get out of the car."

Her voice betrays nothing. It's cold, harsh, distanced. But there never was anything, was there?

Dillon, his hands still raised, slowly gets out. The woman then gets out after. She pulls out a blindfold. It pulls around and binds tight. Dillon can feel his eyes being pressed down by the fabric.

"Twice for the son," The woman intoned, tapping out the beat. A second of silence. She pries open his mouth, forces a few - oval? - shaped pills into his mouth. There's a sharp point, poking at his arm. With a muffled cry, Dillon choked down on the pills. The sharp point is gone, but he suspects something else is wrong.

He's shoved, somewhere. Perhaps the trunk. Perhaps the back seat. All his senses are muted. Panic. There's a low hum, a long static that keeps pounding over and over through his head. His arms are free, and yet they don't work. The only seemingly functional sense is his touch, his feel, and yet his hands can't feel anything. Like a foggy film placed over his hands, unable to touch anything.

The car starts again, at the very least Dillon can tell that. A silent static, a soft hum, and Dillon can feel something. But can he feel something? He doesn't know. His brain and thoughts are gooey, slow and viscous. Like molasses.

He can feel his brain shutting off, the thoughts slowing.

 _In the end it bites like a snake,  
_ _and poisons like a viper._

* * *

Jane's gloved hands grip the wheel tighter. Soon, the man in the backseat will begin to snore. Or maybe not. She's never sure. They were out in the open for far too long. There are far too many familiar cars, familiar license plates.

 _You're being too paranoid_ , her brain argues.

"There's no such thing as too paranoid," Jane muttered.

_Lots of mentally ill people have paranoia. It's a common symptom._

"I'm pretty sure I  _am_ mentally ill."

_Tough luck then, buddy._

"You were a huge help."

_Any day._

Minutes pass, or maybe hours. Time passes in chunks, in glances at the rearview mirror, in the sideview mirror. She takes a brisk left, down one, two, three, four houses. Jane pauses for a second. Goes forwards another block, or maybe two. Pulls over and stops the car, turning it off.

She sprays Black Orchid everywhere. Throws an unused bra, an unworn shoe. Jane carefully takes off blindfold. She gets out of the fake smell of the car. Lock, the cold thump of the car door. She takes another pause, inhaling the cool night air.

She walks away, her hands shoved into her jacket pockets. Jane walks maybe one block, two blocks. She doesn't count. Jane pauses, staring at the cool grey house. She takes a step towards the front porch, and takes out her keys. Her key slides in smoothly, and before she enters, a quiet verse passes between her lips.

"Three times for the Holy Ghost."

She twists the handle, pulls off her shoes. She sneaks around, trying to make sure she doesn't wake Chloe.

A lamp in the living room turns on of its own accord.  _Shit._

The spinny chair (that Jane now begins to regret buying) turns slowly, Chloe's face slowly becoming visible. There's nothing villainous about her actions, simply menacing.

"It's 2 am."

Jane chuckled nervously. "To be  _absolutely_ clear, it's 1:41 am."

Chloe fixes Jane with a look.

"I see your point," Jane says.

Chloe observes Jane, tracing her eyes. She seems to freeze on something. "Is that...blood?"

"Huh?"

"On your sleeve."

Jane lifts her sleeve absentmindedly, looking at the splotch of red. "No?"

"That's...not a question you're supposed to answer with another question." Chloe sighs and rubs her forehead. "Come watch some Marie Kondo with me."

Jane smiled. "Mortui vivos docent."

Chloe looked up. "You weirdo." Jane responded in kind with another smile, and a deserved middle finger. She slid over to the couch, Chloe shuffling from the chair to the couch. They wrapped a soft blanket around themselves, staring fixedly at the screen.

Marie Kondo's kind, bright voice shown through. Her enthusiasm and empathy was infectious. At some point, Jane had fallen asleep, between the piles of trash, garbage that had accumulated, and the change, the cleaning of the messes.

Somewhere along the way, Chloe fell asleep as well.

They slept, wrapped in a blanket, Marie Kondo's voice ringing softly through the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "He'd stand there amid the carnage, blood on his hands and stolen jewelry in his pocket, and with an expression of injured innocence declare, 'Me? What did I do?'   
> And it was believable right up until you looked hard into those cheeky, smiling eyes, and saw, deep down, the demons looking back."  
> — Description of Carcer Dunn, Night Watch


	3. No Witness, No Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken.”  
> \- Jane Austen, Emma

INTERVIEW WITH A PHILANTHROPIST  
By: Elina, Senior Reporter

Sometimes, things happen to wonderful people that should have never occurred, such as the tragedy that befell the ever-beloved philanthropist, Shigeru "Sean" Kobayashi. Just a few days ago, a harsh e.coli infection came about. Some conspiracy theorists have suspected foul play by business competitors, but Kobayashi revealed the reason during the interview I had with him:

"I had a rather strange dinner the night before; not something that I would usually eat, but not too out of the ordinary. I must have a check with my suppliers, if this is the kind of thing that may happen the me." There were also questions raised about the validity of his chef as well, but Mr. Kobayashi insists that his chef is innocent beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"He's a bit younger than those well established, you know, three Michelin star chefs or whatever, but he has a reputation long and filled. He's cooked for the Oscars, for even the most eccentric of celebrities like Fayre Marigold, Blake Jack. And they're still kicking around today!"

Kobayashi insists that he’s felt healthier than ever due to the loving presence of his most recent wife, Clarissa. However, in a private interview with one of Kobayashi's many doctors, who would like to remain anonymous, said doctor admitted that Kobayashi’s health is quite rapidly deteriorating. Kobayashi's had a history of heart problems, with a heart scare a year or two ago.  
Story continued on page 5.

Chloe put down the newspaper and inhaled very slowly.

_Why the_ **_shit_ ** _is this happening to me._

Placing the print back on the rack, she contemplated what the most painful way to tap out was. At the very least, it would be better than dealing with this...predicament that presented itself in the early hours of the morn no less.

Whilst contemplating, Chloe grabbed a bag of salt and vinegar chips and directed herself to the the cashier, where Maddie was silently air playing on a bass.

"Heyyyyyyyy," Chloe slid in front of the cash register, interrupting Maddie's silent jam session.

"Goddammit," Maddie said, getting pulled out of her session, and slowly raised her fist, jokingly pulling a grandma face.

Chloe laughed. "Just get me my fuckin’ chips, thot."

"No you."

"That doesn't even m a k e    _s e n s e_ , Maddie," Chloe over-enunciated.

Maddie cackled, checking out the bag. "That'll be one dollar and sixty-nine cents."

"Are you actually shitting me, Maddie?"

"No. One dollar and sixty nine cents."

"Fucking-" Chloe dug around in her pockets, bringing out a few coins from the depth of her jacket. "Uhhh, that's 25, 50, 75 - uh - one dollar...let's see," Chloe dug around a little more. "Here's 25, 50, ten, five, five. Oh and tax, five."

Maddie grinned. "You know what, just to be absolutely sure, I'm going to count these one by one. That's _25_ cents, _50_ cents, **_75_** cents-"

Chloe groaned.

Maddie fake gasped. "Oh no!! I lost my place. I have to count again. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty-five. Hm," Maddie exaggerated her thinking. "FiFTY! And seventy-five, and one dollar, one dollar twenty-five, one dollar fifty, one dollar seeeeventy-five."

Chloe groaned again and lowered her voice a little bit. "You aaaaabsolute thoooooooot."

"NO YOU!" Maddie exclaimed.

Chloe scowled, before allowing a small smile. "Thanks for the chips."

Maddie was back in her world of jamming already. Looking up for a second, Maddie nodded, before furiously going back to re-enacting one of her Lord and Saviours, John Paul Jones.

The second Chloe was out of the store, she ripped open the bag of chips. "You know what, I'm gonna need this shit if I want to power through all the fallout."

Chloe drew out a chip, and crunched down. Chloe took out her keys and unlocked her Honda, and plopped in. "Time to acquit an illegal bitch."

* * *

Chloe stopped in front of a modest apartment front. She had long since finished the bag of chips, holding its scrunched up carcass in her left hand.

_Carcass? Was that the right word for plastic bag?_

She looked around for a garbage can, found one. Dropped the bag in.

Chloe stared at it for an inordinate amount of time, because you know, sometimes you just have to stare at the garbage can for an inordinate amount of time while you realize what a big relate it is.

She walked over to the apartment front and rang up her room. 4, 6, 3.

"Hello?" A clear voice called out.

"Nova, it's me."

"Oh." The voice dropped before sighing. "Well then, come on up I guess."

_Remind me to find a better receptionist._

With a rude beep, the doors unlocked. Chloe pushed, considered taking the stairs before silently saying fuck it and taking the elevator.

Floor one, two, threeeeee...four. A teeny beep.

This elevator, thankfully, did not play stock elevator music, although Chloe did often find it minorly awkward when there was somebody else in the elevator, as if she had an obligation to talk to said person if no music was to fill the air.

_Ding._

The elevator doors slid open smoothly. Chloe stepped out, took a right, and walked a little bit more. She stood in front of two sleek glass doors, a line traveling across it describing a name. "Ainsworth & Sons." Chloe always thought the name was a tad...old fashioned, and maybe there would be space or time for a new name.

Turns out, an old and fancy name gets you lots of customers.

Chloe pushed, and nodded at Nova. She was reliable enough, Chloe supposed. Her words often carried a tongue-in-cheek glare, but the people who first walked into Ainsworth were often charmed enough by her delicate features.

A few visits later, even after their case had long been closed, many a man (and woman) dropped by to woo Nova.

Being a pathological flirt was a bit terrible sometimes, but then again, Nova was a terrible person.

So maybe it balanced out.

Chloe shuffled down the hallway. She saw Jewel sitting at her desk through the glass door, typing away furiously. This meant that either she was writing something or she was debating scientific theories with Stephanie. Chloe rapped twice on the door. Jewel looked up - smiling? - and went to open the door.

"Hello." A tired voice.

"Hello." Neutral tone, professional.

"I'm here to talk about Claire," Chloe stated, glancing at Jewel.

Jewel nodded. "So I figured. Have you had your tea yet?"

"Not yet. Can you make me a cup?"

Jewel nodded again.

 _God, sometimes I regret not keeping Jewel as a receptionist._ _But then again, Jewel's 10x smarter than anybody else that's up to be a lawyer, and her clean track record doesn't hurt._

Chloe leaned against the wall, tapping her fingers against her. Moriondo's calm voice and the gentle ukulele washed over Chloe, the music playing in her head.

"Here." Jewel held out a hot cup of tea. It was a full black tea, like Chloe preferred it. It was light, brightened by some milk. Chloe took a slow sip, the tea burning against her tongue. The hot liquid burned a path, down her throat. It was mildly sweet with an edge of bitter.

"Jewel, do you put drugs in your tea? I swear, there's no other tea like it in the world."

Jewel blinked once. Twice. Jewel turned, and gazed out the window.

"Hmm." A pensive sound. There's a gentle and slow light streaming through the window from the sun, who is still hiding behind the clouds, the rays being lightly obscured by the slightly darkened clouds. The grounds, the buildings. They were all lightly dusted in a careful cover of snow, still white and pure. The snow would all turn to slush by this afternoon or by the rain, whichever came first. Even through the snow, Chloe could see little glimpses of green poking its head tentatively here and there.

"Perhaps it has to do with knowing how tea steeps into water, and how long you’re supposed to steep it. Steep it too long, it’s bitter, and steep it too short, there’s no flavour. I also suppose that it doesn’t hurt that I know how you like to take your tea." Jewel turned and smiled a little, the corners of her mouth tilting up a little bit.

"Nerd."

"That I am."

"Neeeeeeeerd." Chloe walked over to Jewel's desk and fell on the chair opposite from Jewel's. "So. Fill me in."

Jewel chuckled. She walked over to her side and sat down. A few clicks, and a new document was opened up."Shigeru Kobayashi. Sixty-nine years old. Commonly referred to as Sean by his business partners and his closest family members, allies, friends, whomstever. He's a CEO of Killer Music Entertainment, a fairly small niche in the music community. They consistently have stable singers and bands that appeal to a wide range of people, and, when people get hooked onto one band, they're lifers."

Chloe nodded. "But that's not all, is it?"

Jewel let a small smile of acknowledgement. "Of course not. If Clarissa knows him, it's never all." A few more clicks and taps of from Jewel's computer. Tabs came and went. Jewel's eyes were trained on the screen.

"Aha." Another document was opened. It was surreptitiously named 'Contacts - Sean.' It looked like an innocent online phone book for one of their clients. There were normal phone numbers and normal names, but they were coloured. At the very end, there was a link.

"Here we go." Hesitantly, Jewel looked over at Chloe. "This stuff is pretty...seedy, even for a crime syndicate."

Chloe sighed. "Isn't it always? Give me some cookies, and I'll probably be able to force my way through."

Jewel opened one drawer, and took out a few snickerdoodles and put them in Chloe's hand. "Snickerdoodles."

Chloe had a cookie in her mouth. "Hn? Oh."

Jewel went back to the document.

"In the lighter crimes, Kobayashi has confirmed to have extorted from a small neighbourhood. They're terrified of Kobayashi. They have to pay a whopping $2000 per week."

Chloe choked on the cookie she was nibbling on. "...You said two thousand per _week_?"

"Yes."

Chloe's brows furrowed. She knew what the answer that she might get, but it didn't hurt to ask. "Why don't they just move out?"

Jewel's eyes sparkled. "I figured you'd ask this. To be perfectly honest, I don't think they hate living there at all. I mean, yeah, the price is steep, and it is a bit dangerous. But on the other hand, their businesses and houses are protected. Small things are also cared for by the gang. If it's a small leak or something, the gang does help with it. Of course, the mafia never forgets to collect on its debts; the small thing always ends up being a bigger thing in return."

Chloe frowned, put down her cookie, and picked up her cup. She took a slow sip, processing all the information. She put it back down, and picked up her cookie again.

Jewel went on. "In the middling section, the normal MO. Cocaine, heroin, LSD, whatever the market wants, this gang sells. They also get their supply of drugs from lord knows where; they never ask why a customer never returns."

"And then, what I like to say what truly lands them in the firmest of hells. Thousands of murders, of assaults. Sexual and physical in nature. Cases I could find was in the hundreds, but there must be thousands. And those hundreds are only the grimmest and cruelest of deaths. The least harsh of the worst ones, a variant on the blood eagle. You've heard of it yes? Splitting open someone's back, pulling their ribs backwards, and then pulling the lungs out. Well, they went even further. While the back was slowly being ripped open, they couldn't be bothered to tape close their mouth, meaning that the unlucky person had to bite down on their skin or scream their voice hoarse. After their back was ripped open and flayed, they had a hose ready filled with a mixture of salt, lemon juice, vinegar, and hydrochloric acid."

Chloe's brows quirked up in question.

"Hydrochloric acid. Typically found in the human stomach, it helps break down the food you eat. It’s also used in pickling steel, which I guess is kind of like sterilizing steel before you coat it in protective gear. However, it’s pretty dangerous to the human skin and internal guts. By this point, the man should’ve been dead, but the executor must’ve been really skilled. Anyway, they turned hose to the highest and sprayed the man’s splayed back.”

“Oof. Rip.”

“That’s all you can say?”

Chloe shrugged. “What do you expect me to say? ‘That’s illegal, people aren’t allowed to do that?’ Knowing Claire, this is exactly the kind of person she gets hit up by in a bar.”

Jewel sat back in her chair. “I mean, I guess I expected something a bit more extreme? I did just describe a pretty gruesome death.”

Chloe blinked. “What can I say, I’ve been Claire’s attorney for a few years.”

“So have I, and yet I’m still shocked with every new level,” Jewel responded.

Chloe took her cup and sipped in response.

Jewel took a cookie of her own. “So, what are you going to do now?”

Chloe looked up from her cup. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not a very good plan.”

“Well, do _you_ have any suggestions, _Jewel?_ ”

“Yes, in fact.”

Chloe groaned. “Alright then, let’s hear it.”

“Go to Claire’s. Ask her how she nearly killed Kobayashi and how she plans on ending him. Build a plan off of that. Being a few steps ahead of the prosecution is always the best idea.”

Chloe sipped her tea again. _That actually isn’t a bad plan. I just don’t want to do anything._ “Hnnrgh. Movement.”

“That’s the biggest thing you can do right now.”

Chloe sighed loudly. “But movement.”

Jewel shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

Chloe got out of the chair. “Hnnnnnnnnnn.” She waved a silent goodbye to Jewel, who silently waved in return. Chloe walked down the hall, into her room. She pushed past the translucent door, into the room, and onto the chair.

Chloe slumped backwards and groaned. Turning around, Chloe scooched her chair closer to her desk. A few clicks, the screen lit up. Chloe winced at the faintly blue glare of the computer screen. Email after email, all asking for the same thing.

“Fuck. This. Shit.” A few clicks on the nearby landline. “Nova?”

“What.”

“Is that really how you should be talking to your employer?”

“Please forgive my transgressions, your Highness. Would you like your afternoon foot rub a little bit early?”

“Fuck off. I need you to check my emails and file through the ones that would be quick cash.”

“Urgh.” A blunt beep.

 _You little shit._ Chloe pulled out her phone, calling Claire. A few rings later, the call connected. “Hey, Claire?”

“Yesssss?”

“I’m going to be at Sugar later today. We need to discuss the circumstances of your current husband.”

“fINALLY! I’ve been waiting for this call. How does 2:05 sound?”

“You know, I was the one who was supposed to set the time. That sounds good.”

“Ha.” The call ended quietly with a light beep.

Chloe looked at the clock. “12. I still have some time to kill...maybe I should take Jewel out to lunch?” She looked back down to the monitor. Chloe looked through her calendar. “Hnnnnn. Looks like Jewel has an appointment with some dude at 12. Maybe I should take out Nova?”

Chloe got up from her chair, stretched, grabbed her jacket, and slid it on. _Maybe I should go out to get coffee with Nova instead?_

She strode down the hall, becoming aware of how plain their lobby was. _Maybe it’s time for a redecoration_. “Hey, Nova?”

Nova looked up and glared. “I thought you wanted me to sift through your emails.”

 _Motherfuck-_ “Cancel your plans. We’re going out to grab a cup of coffee.”

Nova laughed, a short, brusque sound. “Are you asking me out to a date?”

“That...was not my intention, but we’ll call it that?”

“Boo. You’re supposed to protest. Well, if we’re going out, we might as well have some fun. I know this really cool bar down the street, and it’s super discreet.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!” Nova cheered. “Glad we’re on the same page.” She grabbed her jacket and sauntered out, leaving a semi-bewildered Chloe behind.

* * *

“Another round please!”

“Not for me, I have to stay sober.”

Nova pouted. “You spoilsport. You know, sometimes I wonder what goes on inside that head of yours.”

“....what?” Chloe peeked at Nova. Her cheeks were flushed slightly. _She’s. Hoo boy, she’s drunk._ Chloe looked back at her drink.

“You are like. Always late for work, and yet somehow, you’re always on top of your shit. I envy that about you. You’re always ready to fucking go. Do you know how early I have to wake up to look slightly put together? Consequences of being naturally flirty, you know.”

“Wow, a narcissist.”

A bitter, short laugh. “Less a narcissist and more an attention whore.”

Chloe shifted in her stool to face Nova. Nova peered at Chloe, and saw an expectant look, before sighing.

“Hmm.” Nova downed her drink.

Chloe figured that would be the case. She turned back to the counter and looked at a nearby clock. _1:45_. “Do you want to go back to the office now?”

“Do you think I’ll be able to do anything?”

“Fair point. Where do you live?”

“Bartender.”

“What.”

“Bartender knows my address. Get him to call a taxi. Oh, Jeremy, not Henry. That jackass. He dumped me. I mean, can you believe it? _Henry_ dumped _me_.”

Chloe waved down a nearby male bartender as Nova continued to rant about Henry. “Hey, could you get her home? I don’t know where she lives, and I think she’s too drunk to even know where she is.”

The bartender sighed. “This one again? Jesus, this is all going on her tab.” He directed himself to a nearby phone. “Hello? Yeah, sorry about that. Yeah, it’s the weekly disturbance. Of course. Yeah. Thank you.”

Chloe watched the proceedings with interest, the bartender removing Nova from the scene like she was a bag of grapes, and dumping her in the taxi, everything moving like a well oiled machine.

The nearby patrons also paid no attention.

“Excuse me? Yeah, I still have to pay for my bill.”

The bartender she waved down took a look at her. “Oh. Right. Uh, that’ll be $5.”

“Hm, so cheap,” Chloe mused.

The bartender shrugged. “Anybody who can withstand a drunk _and_ sober Nova for at least an hour deserves some sort of medal. Besides, she’s a regular, and more than pays for whatever poor soul she brings in.”

Chloe took out a five dollar bill, and a few loonies. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Anytime.”

Chloe walked out of the cozy bar, into the chilly air. She decided that it would be economically wise to walk, but in terms of practicality, a taxi was a better idea.

The banana yellow of the taxi slowed down to a stop as Chloe waved.

“Where to?”

“Sugar.”

And off they went. Highrises and low houses, people who came and went, most of them assholes. Young and old. People in and out of her own life, people she might eventually know, people she might meet, people people people.

The soft tones of the outside, the sweet scent of coffee. It really was an intoxicating smell, and Jocelyn made the best coffee around town. Through the window, Chloe could already see Claire’s grin.

“Here would be fine, thanks.”

“That’ll be $5.”

Chloe handed over a ten dollar bill. “Keep the change.” She got out of the car and walked down the road, before stopping at the door. She pushed the door open.

Claire looked up at the sound of the soft klang of the bell. “Chloe!!!!!!”

Chloe walked towards Claire’s table. “You are. So loud. It’s honestly a miracle authorities haven’t caught you out yet.”

“Ha. Ha. You’re so funny. ANyway, how have you beeeeen?”

“I’m here to discuss how you plan on murdering your husband, not how I’ve been.”

Jocelyn came by, her eyebrows locked in judgement. “You should be glad it’s me and it’s not any of the other waitresses that work here that came to take your order.”

Claire laughed. “Sweetie, you and I both know that you’re the only person with a clean track record that works here. Can I get a pumpkin spice latte with a shot of caramel syrup?”

Jocelyn’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Of course, a pumpkin spice latte with a shot of caramel syrup. And you, Chloe?”

“Uhhh, what kind of tea do you have back there?”

Jocelyn’s eyes brightened, her eyebrows dropping to their normal position. “We actually got our hands on a container of one of the famous Fujian Red Teas, what’s it called,” Jocelyn snapped her fingers twice. “Right!” Jocelyn exclaimed, pointing. “Zhenghe Gongfu? Apparently it goes well with a sweetened milk, which we happened to buy maybe yesterday. We also have your traditional black teas, like English Breakfast, Earl Grey, etcetera. Oh, we also have a bunch of green teas, but you’re more of a black tea gal. So, what will it be?”

Chloe snapped back to attention. “Uh, I’ll take English Breakfast with some milk?”

Jocelyn frowned slightly. “Alright. Anything else?”

Claire glanced at Chloe, who shook her head quietly. “No thanks!”

Jocelyn spun away on one foot.

Chloe shifted her gaze back to Claire. “So?”

“Hmm...probably a poison. Ricin, maybe? I was also looking into oleander as a way to kill him as well, because he has a history of heart problems. That seems like the safest, because oleander’s actually pretty small in toxicology. And I don’t need to release his death immediately. I’ll probably go on vacation soon, probably to Sweden. I’ll call it my ‘yearly detox.’ You’ll know he’ll be dead when I go on vacation. The house staff will probably be bribed to shut their mouths.”

Jocelyn came by just in time to catch that last sentence. “Do I want to know?”

Claire’s eyes sparkled. “Do you?”

Jocelyn made a disgusted noise. “Knowing you two, it’s probably some gruesome description of some poor man’s death.” She put down two cups and strode away. One cup held an almost blond coffee, with a healthy dollop of whipped cream. The other had a slightly darker liquid, but still milky.

Chloe placed her hands around the cup. “Do you need Carmen to autopsy his body?”

Claire shrugged. “I mean, it would be nice to have an authority confirm it wasn’t a death via poison, but even so, Kobayashi has his own people that are loyal to him and most definitely cannot be won over by money. I guess it would help balance it to my favour, but it won’t do too much.

“It’s better than nothing.”

“Mhm.” Claire took a slow drink of her drink. “Urgh. You know, I had picked this to put this on my Insta, but this is really too sweet.”

“Ha.”

“Don’t laugh, I’m going have to pay for this sugary monstrosity.”

“I’m _so_ sorry.”

“THat’s more like it. Anyway, is there anything else you need to know? Sean’s going to get suspicious if I spend more than an hour out, because men seem to believe that women spend hours and hours seeing other men.”

“I don’t think so. I guess I’ll call you when I need more information?”

Claire nodded. “Sounds good. So, how have you been?”

“I’ve been fine. I had tea and some alcohol earlier, and now I’m not sure if I want to finish my tea or not.”

“Finish it. You’re going to have to pay for it anyway.”

“True.”  
They continued talking, about Chloe’s work (“assholes and murderers, mostly”), about Claire’s next victim (“Aldrin Fugger. Wealth’s in his blood.”), about everything and anything.

After an hour, Claire said a quick goodbye, walked outside, and into a limo.

“How very overprotective,” Jocelyn noted.

Chloe whipped her head around. “What?”

“Claire didn’t once take out her phone, meaning she didn’t order the limo. She was in such a rush that she never paid. That _would_ go on her bill, but considering she owns the place, I don’t know if I have the right to do that,” Jocelyn said. She was cleaning up Claire’s cup.

Chloe studied Jocelyn. Chloe had always figured that Jocelyn was just a broke college student who wanted a job that paid fairly ok but also gave her enough time to do her school work. Chloe thought this over. What did Jocelyn study anyway? She always seemed to be hunched over, working on something.

She arrived at her car. Unlock, open, plop, lock. Jocelyn always seemed to be at Sugar, which was strange. And that’s not to discount the fact that she knows Cara. Anybody that knows _Cara_ sure as hell isn’t as innocent as they seem.

Chloe frowned. What would Jocelyn be guilty of? She seemed completely unfettered by any guilt. Then again, Chloe knew multiple possible socio and psychopaths, so that wasn’t to say much.

_Ah, the store._

Chloe parked by the side of the road. Unlock, get out, lock. She crossed the road, and entered the store after a few more steps.

_What do…I need? Eggs. Eggs are important. Potatoes can fucking die. Apples, eh. What am I going to have for dinner? What_ **_do_ ** _I have? You know what? I guess we’re hoping Jane has made dinner already._

Chloe got in line. When she came, she saw Maddie’s familiar face again.

“Oh, it’s _you_.”

“I   L I T E R A L L Y   work here, _Chloe_.”

“Literally?”

“Literally!” Mocking cali-girl voice.

“Dis _gusting_.”

“Well, _uwu_ , you know me.”

“I am thoroughly disgusted.”

Maddie cackled. “The total is 10 dollars.”

Chloe forked over a 10 dollar bill.

“Tank you, UwU!!!”

“I. Am. Re _pulsed._ Absolutely horrified.”

Maddie cackled again. “S u f f e r.”

Chloe groaned, and dragged herself to her car. Unlock, open the trunk. Gently, she placed the eggs in the back.

She directed herself towards the front seat.

"I guess we're pulling a gamble with Jane." Chloe sighed, and turned on her car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I wanted to let the world know that no one had a perfect life, that even the people who seemed to have it all had their secrets.”  
> \- Jeannette Walls, The Glass Castle


End file.
